The Days of Rosto the Piper
by Lioness's Heart
Summary: Rosto the Piper always did have an interesting life. Now he has a chance to tell some of his stories. A series of random oneshots based on Rosto. Includes: Remembrance, I Have No Fate, The One Thing, Those Nights, and now up - His Last Chance to Live.
1. A Piper's Pride

**Disclaimer: Not. Mine. Any questions?  
A/N: I wrote this last week - My first real try at Beka's time...Tell me what you think! There'll be more up as soon as I get around to writing the next one, which, considering I have a youth event at my church this weekend, but I'll give it my best effort to have another one up in the next two weeks or so...Enjoy!**

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Rosto the Piper sat in his throne at the Court of the Rogue. He was slumped in the throne, one leg extended to the edge of the dais, the other bent to keep him in place. His white-blond hair was neat, but his black eyes were far off. His left arm rested on one of the armrests of the throne, while he had the joint of his right thumb resting on his lips while he thought.

Nothing remotely interesting or important had happened in the Rogue for days, giving Rosto plenty of time to think. His thoughts drifted, first to his childhood in Scanra, then to how he'd met Kora and Aniki, and how they had ended up in Tortall. Finally they shifted to the dealings they'd had with the Shadow Snake, when he'd become the Rogue. That had been an interesting time…and Beka, sweet, fierce, determined, obstinate Beka.

_'No, Rosto, stop that, you know better. She's a Dog, and you're the Rogue. She's told you that more than once. She's not interested in being anything more than friends, barely friends at that. It wouldn't work, and you know it, _he reasoned with himself. After all, she was a member of the Provost's Guard, and he the King of the Rogue, maybe she was right. But maybe she wasn't. She hadn't really given it a chance, but then, really, neither had he.

He'd chosen the Rogue, initially as a rusher, when he'd come to Tortall. He did remember the occasion when she'd said that she would never marry, be courted by, or allow herself to be romanced by a rusher. Not after what had happened to her mother.

Rosto sighed. He really did like Beka, but he knew that she wouldn't accept him unless he was a free man, not bound to the Court of the Rogue. That was just how she was. Now Rosto did have his pride, he was the King of the Rogue after all. The Rogue was his life – it had been in Scanra as well, but more so here, since Kayfer's fall.

Those had been an interesting few days, before, and after, he'd defeated Kayfer Deerborn. He'd even managed to steal a kiss from Beka after the duel, when she wasn't expecting it.

It seemed like as he thought her name that last time, she and her old Dogs, Mattes Tunstall and Clary Goodwin, entered. Of course, Happy Bag, he'd forgotten when they were coming to collect that. Beka glanced at him as they passed; her ghostly blue-gray eyes met his obsidian stare for just a moment before she looked away.

Goodwin, who had been watching Beka at that time, glanced at him, too, a slight frown on her face as she gazed at the Rogue. She, too, looked away after a moment, but not for the same reason as Beka.

Rosto watched them come and go without moving from his position. He realized something then. Yes, he had his pride, but sometimes there were things that were more important to him than that. Beka was one of them. The Piper's pride was nothing next to her. He couldn't give up the Rogue, but he could see if she'd accept him for who he was, not what he was…

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**A/N: What do you think? I'd love to hear what you have to say - please, review! **


	2. Remembrance

**Disclaimer: Not. Mine.**

**A/N: Yeah! I got another one done! I really like this one, despite the fact that it's really sad. Oh, and just to point out, this one is completely AU to all of the rest in the series. For one thing, I'd never wish this on Rosto...**

**Edit: This is also AU to the books, since, if Beka was killed before she had a kid, we wouldn't have George, and that would be very, very bad. (Thanks to AdagioToAWolf for pointing that out) **

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_Beka…_ Rosto held his head in his hands while he sat on a bench. His mind cried out for her every other second, loving her for her bravery one second, cursing her for it the next. She'd had to go after that rat. She'd had to follow him into that tavern. She'd had to fight it out. 

A silent tear slid down his cheek. The others thought this was rather odd. The King of the Rogue crying over one of the Dogs – it was unheard of. They were on opposite sides of the law. They were clearly supposed to enemies, but they weren't. They'd been closer than any would have thought. It had only been a few months before that she'd acknowledged that she had feelings for him, and allowed some of his advances.

Neither of them had expected this. Somehow, they'd managed to avoid those thoughts, even though they knew they were both in dangerous positions. Rosto always had the risk hanging over his head that some other young rogue would challenge him, and take him out.

Beka had always lived with the fact that she'd chosen a dangerous job when she became a Puppy. They'd never thought about the fact that at least three or four Dogs died in a year, or that Beka could be one of them.

The statistics had always seemed to be in their favor. Until now, now Rosto had lost another person he loved. Just like before. Aside from him being the Rogue, was there something about him that put the people close to him in danger? Was she dead because of him? He couldn't help but wonder if her death, as well as his sister's was his fault. It seemed possible, as he thought about it. But, no - it had to be just a coincidence. There was absolutely nothing common about the two incidents. There was nothing that connected them.

He sighed, trying to push away those thoughts. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Beka's face, whether she was smiling, or the look on her face when she was mad. Each time he blinked he was haunted by his grief, by an image of her face.

He hadn't even been able to be honest about his feelings with her. He'd started to when the now dead rat had attacked them. The young thief's intentions had been to kill the King of the Rogue and take over the Court, as well as take out the one Dog who was practically guaranteed to catch any rat in the lower city.

He remembered the incident so clearly. He knew that he'd never forget that day. Never in his life would he be able to live with the fact that he hadn't been able to save her. Never would he be able to live without the feeling that he'd let her die, that he'd been the cause. Never would the haunting cease.

Rosto's head was cradled in one of his hands – his other arm was bandaged and in a sling – while the Dogs honored Beka. Beka's Dogs, Tunstall and Goodwin weren't too far from Rosto. Goodwin was sobbing into her partner's chest, something that rather shocked Rosto – she'd loved Beka in her own way, even if she hadn't shown it before. Tunstall's face was dry, but his eyes were filling rapidly. Rosto could tell it was hard for them to lose Beka, she'd been their Puppy, and they'd remained close even after she'd been elevated to a full-fledged Dog.

The Lord Provost spoke for a while – he and his wife had loved her like a daughter, in a way. They'd raised her when her mother had died, and she'd lived with them until she'd joined the Guard. Rosto shook his head, tears slipping down as he did so.

They knew nothing of what his torture was like. They weren't haunted by thoughts of her every waking moment, and tormented by replaying nightmares in the moments that he dozed off. They had no idea how his heart made him suffer, even while they thought they were in pain. He had no moment when Beka wasn't on his mind; there hadn't been a moment like that since her death.

Rosto knew it would be a very long time, if ever, before he got over this. It was more likely that he'd go back to Scanra than it was that he'd ever really get over Beka. It was more likely that he'd give up the Rogue before the pain in his heart disappeared.

One thing he knew, he would always remember her. He'd remember Beka, through the years, wherever he was, whatever he was doing, nothing could change that. Rosto the Piper wasn't a man who forgot people easily.

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**A/N: Let me know what you think! I'd love to hear from you, and if you have any suggestions, those are just as welcome. And if you need something Terrier themed to read while you await more, try AdagioToAWolf's version of Bloodhound - it's awesome.**


	3. I Have No Fate

**Disclaimer: If I was Tamora Pierce then this wouldn't be on here. I would be spending my time writing Bloodhound, not torturing Beka and Rosto.  
A/N: Hehe. I updated! And this's a really long one, so you can be happy about that. I'm actually a bit ashamed to admit that I enjoyed writing this (you'll know why I say that I'm ashamed about that by the end). This's AU to the books, and the only things that aren't AU to this will be marked as such. Enjoy – and don't forget to review!**

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"No! I swear, I didn't do it!" His voice rang through the streets, over the noise of the struggle, and the crowd. Shackles rattled at his wrists, tight against his pale skin. 

Some people mistook him for a madman, the way he looked as he struggled. Muscles stood out in his neck, his pale blond hair had come loose from its horsetail, flying everywhere with each fluid movement of his lithe body.

His boot skidded violently across the cobblestones of the street as they tried to drag him away. No matter how hard they pulled the chains, he resisted, and held fast, giving as little ground as he could. He fought them as hard as he could, but it was no use.

The shackles strained at his wrists, he could feel the bruises forming there the metal bit into his skin. It was then that the Cage Dogs put all of their weight on the chains.

"Beka, tell them!" He knew it wouldn't help, but it was worth a try. She stood there, completely frozen, her blue eyes wide with shock. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out, she was scared to death for him, he could see it in her eyes.

There were six Cage Dogs against one of him, and they were not happy. Rosto continued to fight them, even though he knew it was no use – he was caught. Still, he did fight them, reaching out one hand toward Beka, as far as he could fight to move it while constricted by the chains, and the weight of six angry Cage Dogs.

It was a miracle that he'd lasted this long, considering the ratio of his strength to theirs. The miracle was no more, though, his strength waned, and he stumbled backwards. The Cage Dogs were surprised by the sudden slack; they weren't used to that, not after the way he'd fought them for so long. Rosto regained his balance, but then pitched forward when one of them used a baton on the back of his shoulder. At the instant he hit the ground on his hands and knees, two young Rats jumped from the shadowed alleyways, one on either side of him, their hands glowing with magic. They cut right through the metal links with the magic. Taking the opportunity, Rosto shifted to his feet in a single swift motion.

Before the Dogs could respond, he was off. He stopped next to Beka, kissed her softly, then ran for his life as the six very angry, very violent Cage Dogs chased after him. Beka just watched him go – he'd instructed her earlier, right before he'd been arrested, that she was to stay out of this fight, and let him take care of it. He'd made her promise that she wouldn't fight, even if it was to save his life. He hadn't wanted her to get hurt.

Now he knew that she would be hurt either way, whether or not she was actually injured. Cage Dogs rarely came out of the kennel for an arrest, and when they did, it was always something bad. This was worse.

They had accused him of the kidnap and murder of the eldest prince. He hadn't done it; he was completely innocent of this crime. He knew the consequences of what they were accusing him of – death. That was why he ran. If he could get away, then maybe he could prove that he was innocent. Or maybe not. He did know that, if he was caught again, he would die at dawn. They wouldn't wait for someone to prove them wrong, they wouldn't care that he wasn't the one who'd done it. If the person who had done it showed up later, they'd realize their mistake, but they wouldn't care, they'd just execute the guilty one, and move on.

That was how Cage Dogs were. The Watch Dogs on the other hand, would care. People like Beka, Tunstall, Goodwin, and Erskan, they would care. He'd been the one to promise them safe passage at the heart of the Court of the Rogue.

He glanced behind him to see four of his pursuers tailing him. Where were the other two? He found out the answer to his question when they came at him from the alleys. He dodged one, but he wasn't quick enough to avoid the other one. The other was a rather muscular man, who managed to clothesline Rosto with one arm. In a split second, the man had his arm completely around Rosto's neck, and had wrestled the young Rogue to the ground.

Rosto forced his muscles to uncoil when he found a dagger at his throat. His doom was sealed. He knew it from that instant on. More shackles closed around his wrists, tighter this time, and fused together, this time - a precaution for people like him, he guessed. One of the men, the one who'd clotheslined him, grabbed his arms, and started hauling him back the way they'd come.

They way he jerked Rosto he was making the younger man stumble over the uneven cobblestones. Rosto glanced around when they reached where the initial struggle had occurred. Beka was nowhere in sight. That was good – she wouldn't see them drag him away, or the ways they came up with to humiliate him, as Cage Dogs often did with the people they arrested.

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Later, not too long before Evening Watch, someone entered the cages, unaccompanied by anyone else. It wasn't one of the Cage Dogs, that was for sure, judging from the hooting from some of the very drunk Rats near the door. Rosto didn't even bother looking toward the person, it was dark, and he was in the farthest cage from the door anyway. It was unlikely he'd be able to tell who it was, anyway. 

Footsteps drew nearer to him. He hadn't expected that. In the moonlight that streamed through the bars from outside, he could see an outline, drawing ever closer to him.

He knew he probably looked horrible, but, at this point, he didn't care. He sat in the corner of his little cell, his bruised wrists resting on his knees; his blond hair was once more pulled back with a spare hair-tie he'd had in his pocket. There was yet another cut on his cheek, not even a few hours old from the look of it. He could also tell that he had a black eye from where one of the Cage Dogs had punched him. He was a mess, and he knew it. He just simply didn't care anymore; he was resigned to his fate, now.

The silhouette drew close enough for him to see. Beka. She offered a sad, almost heartbreaking, truly forced smile when her ethereal blue-gray eyes met his sable stare. She carried her baton, and all that she needed for her Watch.

She knelt by the bars that separated them, her eyes never leaving him. He slowly made his own way to the bars, wincing with every movement that caused his sore body to twinge. They sat there for a few moments, neither of them moving.

"They decided your fate, Rosto," she whispered. Her lip quivered, tears formed in her eyes.

"You're t' die at sunup." It must have killed her to say that, he could see that just by looking at her. She was hurting, knowing that she was losing him. There was no way he could comfort her, he, too, knew there was very little hope.

He reached out a hand to touch one of hers. She raised one of her own to touch his between the cold metal bars. The glint of gold on one of her fingers made him smile. Years ago, she'd told him that she would never have feelings for him, that she'd never love a rusher. The glint told him differently. He'd worked an honest job on the side of being the Rogue to earn enough to buy that ring for her honestly, knowing that she'd never accept it if he'd bought it with money from the Court of the Rogue. She'd accepted him, then. She'd made him the happiest man in Tortall, at that moment.

The part that had surprised both of them most of all was that they'd made it work. They'd been happy together. That had surprised everyone, even the two of them. Three years, they'd been content, until now.

She squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the present, then released it. Moving that hand forward, he drew her closer, kissing her passionately, his other hand stroking her cheek. When they drew back, he could see all of the tears that filled her eyes. She was crying, now. It broke his heart to see her like that. She hadn't cried like that, even when Rosto'd nearly died in a duel over the Rogue, nor when they'd lost their unborn child.

"I love you, Beka. Stay safe. Move on. Live your life." She stared at him, her mouth agape.

"I can't live without you, Rosto. Mayhap a few years ago, I could've, but now, I don't think so. I love you too much." He reached up and pushed some of her dark blond hair out of her face, his expression tender.

"I know, Beka. That's why I want you to live your life, and move on," he paused, his dark eyes meeting her eerie light ones. "There is happiness out there, waiting for you, that I could not, and never will be able to give to you, my sweet."

Now he was fighting tears. He only had so long before he would die for the crime he hadn't committed. When he'd married her, he'd promised, jokingly at the time, that he'd be a good Rat. He knew now that he had meant it. He was a good man; Beka wouldn't have agreed to marry him if she hadn't been sure of that, he knew she wouldn't have. But there were other men out there who were better than him – who would make her just as happy, without the risk of being the Rogue, without being Rosto the Piper.

It broke his heart to even think those thoughts. He loved her with all of his heart, all of who he was.

"Please, Beka. Promise me this. Don't mourn me for long; I know you can move on. There's no hope for me, not unless someone else comes forward and claims that I am innocent, and that they was the one that doused the prince. Elsewise, I'm a dead cove." He saw the glint in Beka's eyes as he said that. She was going to try to find the killer, and free Rosto, at her own expense.

"Now, Beka, I know what you're thinking. Don't go getting yourself killed trying to find that crackpot. My life's not worth yours. I want to know that you're safe. I don't want to know that I was the reason that you died, too. Do you understand me?" She sulkily nodded, more tears filling her eyes.

"That's my gixie." He offered her the best smile he could managed, "It'll be alright. I know you can do it." He kissed her once more, right as the door opened again. He

squeezed her hand once more before releasing it. Tunstall and Goodwin entered, both looking rather sad. They both nodded to him in the faint light of the moon.

"It's time to go, Beka," Goodwin said quietly. The veteran Dog met Rosto's eyes. "We believe ye, Piper, if it's worth anything to ye. If sommat happens and the killer comes forward, the Cage Dogs'll let ye free, they said. Good luck to ye, we hope it doesn't come down to you dyin' on the scaffold tomorrow." Rosto nodded, smiled as best he could.

"Thank you. Will you pass on a message for me?" He asked the Dogs. When Tunstall nodded, Rosto continued. "Tell Aniki that the Rogue belongs to her the second I die. I know she'll do a good job." He looked away for a moment, contemplating what his next words.

"Beka, there are letters in the secret compartment on the side of my desk, they are signed and addressed, but unsealed. Seal them and send them off, what family I have in Scanra will like to know that I'm dead so that they can perform the proper mourning. If you insist on going yourself, you have my blessing, but be careful. Some of them 'at I'm related t' are a good deal more violent then even these Cage Dogs."

He reached out and grasped her hand once more, "Be strong, Beka. Be careful, my Terrier, my Bloodhound. I love you. Don't ever forget that." He pulled her close to the bars again, and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.

"Take care." With that, he released her, and backed away from the bars while the two veteran Dogs led her away. She glanced over her shoulder at him once more time before the door closed behind her. He would never forget the look in her eyes.

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"State your name, where you are from, your rank, and what you are accused of. You may add whether you believe yourself to be guilty or innocent, if you must." Rosto turned his dark eyes toward the Cage Dog that spoke, keeping his face uninterested. 

"And say it loudly," the Dog added as an afterthought. His wrists bound behind him by rope, Rosto stepped forward, a step closer to death. In a voice that carried, he listed what he was told to, as per tradition of the prey of the Cage Dogs.

"Rosto the Piper, formerly of Scanra, King of the Rogue. Accused of the kidnap and murder of the eldest prince of the Realm of Tortall. Innocent of all charges, but the only suspect in the crime." Rosto looked straight forward, toward where the sun was rising. His last sunrise had come.

Then the Cage Dog standing near him spoke again. "Ye 'ave accepted your fate, then?"

Rosto turned his head, "I have no fate," he said simply. He took another step forward. His only thoughts now were Beka. He didn't have a fate, anymore. Not one that concerned him, at least. He could only think of Beka, and wish that they'd had more time together. He hoped that she could move on, like he wanted her to.

Now, all that was left was for him to face what was coming. All that was left was for him to pay the price for something he hadn't done.

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**Posted 1/8/08**


	4. Fevered

**Disclaimer: Not. Mine.  
A/N: Wow, it's been a really long time since I updated this…sorry about that…this one's been sitting half-done in my notebook for months, and I finally finished it. I have some other ideas, but I don't know how long it'll take me to write the next one…anyways, enjoy!**

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It was so hot, and yet, he was so cold. Rosto knew something was wrong. He had about five blankets wrapped around himself, but he was still freezing. His body was covered in cold sweat, and he was thirsty all of the time. He couldn't sleep, his mind was too conscious. The only problem with that was that it wasn't working enough that he could actually think. Of all the times for him to fall ill, now was one of the worst. He'd sent Aniki and Kora off to Port Legann to retrieve something – he couldn't remember what it was, now – and they wouldn't be back for days. There was no way that they'd be back in time.

He rolled over again, his head aching. It seemed like just his luck that Beka's cat, Pounce, had somehow pushed the door to Rosto's room open just then. The cat padded closer, seemingly curiously.

At this point, Rosto surprised himself, and managed to reach for some paper and a quill and ink that he kept on a small table by his bed. Quickly and weakly, he scrawled a message to Beka.

_Beka,_

_Need help. Ill. Please._

_Rosto_

He tore the paper, rolled it into a sloppy scroll, and beckoned for the cat to come closer. "Pounce, come here," he said, his voice almost non-existent. The cat gave him a disdainful look, but obeyed all the same. Rosto extended the scroll to the cat, whose expression had changed to an 'I-don't-want-to-do-this-but-I-will-anyway' look. Pounce padded just a bit closer, and grasped the scroll delicately in sharp ivory teeth. The cat disappeared again before Rosto knew it.

It seemed like forever before Beka got back – she'd been out somewhere on her day off. He heard rapid footsteps outside, the door slamming, and more footsteps. They suddenly stopped outside of his door. Slowly, the door opened, and Beka gazed in.

The look on her face betrayed her worry, and a number of other emotions that Rosto hadn't expected to see when the situation concerned him. The look on her face was enough to tell him that he'd made the right choice, sending Pounce for Beka.

She hesitated for a moment, then rushed to his side, her icy eyes wide as she placed the back of her hand against his forehead. She withdrew her hand in a second, not looking happy about the heat that she'd felt. For just a moment, her expression became tender and concerned. "Oh, Rosto, what did you do to deserve this?" She asked. He wearily opened his mouth to attempt to speak, but Beka placed her hand over it before he could. "Stay quiet, Rosto. You need your strength."

He nodded, or at least tried to, as a fog seemed to take over his vision. A faint smile curled his lips as he slipped into a less-than-blissful unconsciousness.

The next few days were a never ending haze to him. When his fever spiked, he began to drift in and out of consciousness. The only thing he was really conscious of when he was awake was Beka's constant presence at his side, which he was grateful for. He was grateful for the unconsciousness. It was the only cool release from the blazing fever. But, even so, his sleep was tormented by nightmares. He would toss and turn, night and day. Every time he woke, he was covered in cold sweat, but it wasn't until the last two times that Beka was holding his hand. A healer had been in and out several times, but nothing had helped. His only comfort was Beka's cool hand in his.

It was the middle of the night when he woke next. The sound of soft sobs met his ears. "Don't die, Rosto, please, don't die." Rosto turned his head so that he was looking at her. His hand was clasped in hers, and it was wet. Beka was crying, with her face rested on their hands, which were at the edge of the bed.

"Please, Rosto, don't die. I…I love you." If he hadn't been ill, he would have let out a loud whoop and might have jumped for joy.

"What makes you think I'm goin' t' give up that easily?" He asked. His voice was hoarse and gravelly, but it was there, and Beka heard it. Her head shot up.

"You – you heard?" She asked, her ghost-eyes wide.

"Yes."

"And?"

"I feel the same way." He pulled her close, and kissed her on the cheek. "I'd go for your lips, but I highly doubt that you'd appreciate getting whatever this is." His eyes twinkled mischievously, despite the fevered look they still held. "Thank you, Beka." She nodded and smiled.

"You're welcome, Rosto." He returned her smile briefly before working himself into a more comfortable position and dropping into the first truly peaceful, dreamless sleep in a long time.

Beka sighed contentedly. The worst was over, Rosto was going to get better.

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**A/N: Don't forget to review! Lioness loves reviews, and will give virtual cookies to everyone who reviews!**

**Posted 3/11/08**


	5. The One Thing

**A/N: Yay! An update! Okay, I can honestly say that this wasn't what I had in mind for the next one…it just kind of fell into place in the last couple of days…**

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Rosto the Piper was the King of the Rogue. He had everything he could ever want. Except for one thing: Beka Cooper's affection. She was a rising young Dog in Corus, while he was the Rat-King, the King of Thieves. She had so vehemently denied that she had affection for the handsome Scanran that he had finally believed her and given up. He loved her, but she did not love him. He would watch her leave their lodgings every day for Watch and wish that she felt the same way he did. Every once in a while, he would ask her if she'd changed her mind, but the answer was always the same: no.

Eventually, he even stopped asking her that, because he knew that she had gotten involved with another young Dog. Rosto could see that she was happy with someone else, and it hurt. He would still watch her, but without hope.

Beka glanced at him one day over breakfast. He leaned back in his chair, staring despondently at the wall opposite him. His sable eyes were empty. The mischievous glitter that she had come to know and expect from him wasn't there. There was nothing in his eyes, nothing but hopelessness. No hope, no pride, just hopelessness. He didn't notice that she was looking at him, or what anyone else was doing. He picked absently at the food on his plate. He didn't even seem to realize what he was doing.

"Rosto?" Beka shifted towards him a little, more than slightly worried about him. He jerked up, his face tightened, and his body tensed.

"Hmm? What?" He inquired, glancing at her, and a fresh wave of pain washed over his mind. It must have showed, because her forehead creased slightly as she frowned. Everyone at the table was now watching Rosto and Beka.

"Are you alright?" She asked. He nodded unenthusiastically.

"Fine. Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself." He got up and walked away, not even turning to glance back. Beka and the others just watched him go. Rosto had changed since he had come to Corus, he had changed since he had become the Rogue, but this was the most profound change yet. Beka couldn't help but wonder what had caused it. She frowned at the food in front of her, dismissing every possible reason she could come up with. Why was he acting like that? She would have to talk to Aniki when the other mot wasn't discussing Rogue business with Phelan. Or, she could talk to Rosto herself. She would have to eventually.

Eventually, she got up and made her way upstairs, pausing by Rosto's door. She knocked softly, but there was no reply. Beka's frown deepened as she heard soft movements in the room, but still, no response came. She knocked again, harder.

"Rosto, I know you're in there. Answer the door," she told him. A heavy sigh was the response she received.

"Why?"

"Because I want to talk to you. Please, open the door," she said, almost pleading with him.

After a moment, the door opened, revealing an emotionless Rosto the Piper. His eyes were dull, as they had been earlier, but there was something in them this time. It took Beka several moments of gazing into his eyes to realize that it was pain and sorrow.

"What do you want, Beka?" Rosto asked, meeting her gaze steadily. Once, those eyes had made her shiver with the intensity of them. The passion was gone, the pure life that Beka had become so used to wasn't there. It was as if he had given up the will to live. She stared at him for a few moments, her mind unable to see any reason for this change. "Beka. What do you want?" He asked again.

"Oh, I just…I wanted to make sure you were alright, Rosto." As she watched him, his mouth tightened, and he shifted just a little.

"I'm as well as I can be. Only one thing ails me, and that is of no concern to you. It is not life threatening, nor can it be fixed or changed at this point," he told her. His voice was flat and emotionless. "Good day, Beka." With that, he closed the door. He leaned back against it, tears just barely forming in his dark brown eyes. What a lie. Of course it concerned her. It was his heart that ailed him, and it was because of her.

On the other side of the door, Beka was staring at it. It wasn't as if he had been rude or anything to her, but she knew there was something wrong, and he wasn't telling her. She could bet that it was her of her concern, too, judging by his actions. Rosto wouldn't act in a way that wasn't either how he felt or how he needed to act. With a last glance, she walked away from the door, leaving Rosto to think on his own.

Rosto sighed again, and moved to the window of his room. As he stood there, he pulled out one of his pipes, pulled a chair up to the window, and began playing a melody as he thought. He knew he was dying – his heart told him so. Beka had broken it with her total refusal. Sure, there were other mots who would do anything to have Rosto's affections, but none of them were Beka. It was she who held his heart, and she who did not want it. Before he had met her, he had scoffed the tales of those who died of a broken heart, such as Kenelm the Strong, who had been in a similar situation to Rosto. The man had been a warrior from the South, come to Tortall to make his fame. He had met a young mot by name of Jocelyn Callista, and had fallen so deeply in love with her that, when she had spurned his love for her, he had died of a broken heart.

Rosto could feel himself dying, always just a little more each day. He had no hope of Beka changing her mind. She was too firmly footed with her 'never a rusher' stance. She would never accept him because of that, because all she saw was the rusher. He was her friend, but that was as far as she was willing to let it go. She had once told him that she believed that a cove who lived by violence in one part of his life would live by it in his entire life. She didn't see that, though he was the Rogue, he was also just a man, one who felt things just as she did. One who needed her to realize who he was, and love him for who he was. That was why Rosto had given up hope. It was better that way, not to hope for something he knew wouldn't come. He could never hope that she would change her mind now. Besides, his time was drawing to a close. What use did he have for false hope?

Finally, the time came for Beka to leave for Watch. He heard her soft footsteps come down the stairs and go past his door. With a sigh, he ended the mournful tune he had been playing for the last few moments and put the pipe away. He stood at the window and let his gaze follow Beka as she walked toward the Kennel. After a few moments, he made his own way downstairs. Little did he know what was ahead.

* * *

Beka Cooper walked back towards the Dancing Dove and the lodging house as calmly as she could. She had broken off her relationship with Townsend Featherstone, the Day Watch Dog who had been courting her. He was nice enough, but there was something missing, the spark that made the relationship worthwhile. There was only one person who had that spark. She only felt it when Rosto had flirted with her or kissed her.

Then it hit her. That was why Rosto had been acting strangely towards her. He had offered his heart to her, and she had effectively thrown it away, shattering it. That was why his eyes were dull and he acted as though he had no will left to live – he had everything he could ever want, except for his heart's greatest wish: her. He had given up hope, because she had told him that she could never love a rusher.

Beka paused on the street, just before she neared the Dove. There was absolute silence. Not a sound came from the Dancing Dove, not even the roar of drunken coves, or the giggle of a doxy. Nothing. Beka's eyes widened slightly and she dashed over to the door. People parted as she moved through, and her mouth fell open as she stared at the scene in front of her. Two bodies were sprawled in front of the Rogue's dais. They were both lay still and silent. One was Rosto, the other a cove she didn't recognize. The second cove's throat was cut, but it was not he who Beka's eyes fell upon. It was the all too still form of Rosto the Piper. A thin red line on the right side of his neck seeped blood as he lay there with his eyes closed. Beka looked up at Aniki, who had a horrified look on her face. The other mot met her eyes and they reacted in the same instant.

"OUT!" They bellowed in unison. Afraid of the Dog and the Queen of the Rogue, everyone but Kora and Phelan fled. The two of them closed the shutters and moved to stand over at the door so that no one else could enter. Slowly, Beka knelt down next to him, studying his face. Her eyes stung slightly as she softly brushed a few strands of white-blond hair from his face. He could have been sleeping. His face was peaceful – his eyes were closed and his lips were just slightly parted. Her breath caught in her throat; a dry sob escaped her as she watched him.

It couldn't be happening. He had won, he couldn't be dead. He just couldn't. Though she tried to fight them, tears filled her eyes. She closed them, willing herself not to cry.

A low groan, no more than a pained exhalation, sounded next to her. Beka opened her eyes to see Rosto blinking blearily and moving his head just slightly. His breathing was shallow, and he was paler than usual, but he was alive. His night-black eyes fell on her and his expression became confused. It nearly broke her heart to see him look at her like that, the way he looked so lost and vulnerable.

"Beka?" He asked. His deep voice was barely there, but the disbelief was unmistakable. She found herself unable to do anything but nod tearfully. A weak smile curled his lips when his eyes met hers. "Didn't know ye cared," he muttered almost unintelligibly.

"Of course I care, you white-haired looby! Of course I care," she told him softly.

"My hair's na white. 's blond," he mumbled in reply. Beka looked up when she heard footsteps near the door. Kora had disappeared, to get a healer, no doubt, Beka's mind registered. Rosto's hand moved slightly and found hers. He squeezed it weakly, and let out a light sigh. He closed his eyes, and Beka was worried for a moment until she once again heard the rhythmic sound of his now steady, though shallow, breathing. Beka began stroking his hair, trying to make him comfortable while they waited for a healer as much as to comfort herself. For the first time, she realized what her heart had been trying to tell her all along. There was truly more of a connection of friendship between her and Rosto; she had come to love him as he loved her. She just hadn't realized it until she had thought she'd lost him. That made her wonder if she could deal with it again if they got close and he lost. Whatever the future would bring, she would have to be ready for it, and maybe, just maybe, Rosto would be at her side to help her through it.

* * *

**A/N: Enjoy it? Then don't forget to review! Reviews help me write faster. Please?**

**Posted 5/28/08**


	6. Those Nights

**Disclaimer: Not. Mine.  
A/N: Wow, it's been four months since I put up the last oneshot on here...well, anyway, this one was inspired by Skillet's _Those Nights, _though it doesn't follow the flow of the song...it might be a bit more interesting if you listen to the song while reading it, I dunno. So, enjoy, and don't forget to leave me a review!**

* * *

The Dogs' burial ground was a cold place, particularly for the man who stood before a granite headstone at the far end. In the late hours of the night, no one cared who he was. His grey-shot white-blond hair was pulled back in a horsetail, his dark brown eyes stared sadly at the flecked stone that shone in the moonlight. He hated what it said, how much it hurt.

Over thirty years had passed since the day he had come to Corus. They had gone far too fast in his opinion. It seemed like just yesterday that he had been twenty-two and flirting with the pretty Puppy who lived in his boarding house. Now he was in his early fifties and about to retire from the Rogue. He was tired, and rightly so. He had held the throne for almost the whole time, a particularly long time for the Rogue.

In all honesty, he didn't really want the throne anymore. He'd seen his friends pass away one by one. First had been Phelan when a brawl had broken out in the Dove and a challenger had thrown a knife at Rosto before he had officially challenged the Rogue. Phelan had stepped in front of it, saving Rosto's life, but losing his own in the process. Rosto hadn't forgiven him for that for years after the event.

Then Kora had died because she had fallen ill of some heart disease when she was carrying her third child with Ersken. She had passed away soon after giving birth, leaving Ersken heartbroken. That had been a blow to everyone, not just Ersken – everyone had expected her to pull through from what the healer said.

An interval of about fifteen years had passed before Ersken had been killed on duty. It had only been a matter of time at that point. Everyone around him knew that part of him had died with Kora all those years before. It had saddened them all greatly.

Aniki had been the next one. She had died peacefully in her sleep the year before. Then it had just been him and Beka. Now he was alone. Beka had also died on duty, just like a Dog. Murdered by a Rat who hated the Rogue, a Rat who thought the best way to hurt the Rogue was to kill his best friend.

Rosto had never thought that he would be the last one alive. He had always thought that being the Rogue would kill him long before any of the others. Yet somehow, he was the last of them. The fact that he was the only one left hurt him for some reason. This wasn't how it was supposed to end…

Slowly, Rosto sank to his knees in front of the gravestone, tears in his eyes.

"Why didn't you choose me, Beka? I loved you. I loved you more than my own life. Why couldn't you see that?" He whispered into the silent darkness.

* * *

(Flashback)

When Rosto walked downstairs in the middle of the night for something to drink, he found Beka sitting in the dark at a table in the kitchen. When he lit several candles in the room and proceeded to get out a cup and fill it with water. He glanced at Beka over his shoulder as he pulled other things from the cabinet - a plate, crackers, and a small wheel of cheese.

A few moments later, he seated himself across from Beka, setting the plate between them. For a moment, he just looked at her before he spoke up.

"Can't sleep?" Her response was a nod. "Me neither," he said, flashing a roguish grin at her. Beka shook her head at him, but did not utter a word. "Do you want to talk about it?" Rosto asked. Beka sighed.

"It's nothin', Rosto. You don' have to worry 'bout me," she said quietly. From her voice, he could tell that there was indeed wrong. She sounded like she was about to cry.

"Beka, you can't just keep it all pent up. You'll make yourself sick if you do that. You can tell me anything. I'm your friend, and nothing can change that," he paused, making her look into his eyes. "No matter what you say, no matter how many times you push me away, I will _always_ be your friend. As long as I have anything to say about it, you won't ever be without someone to turn to."

Even with all of that said, and Beka blushing profusely, he knew that what he had tried to say hadn't made it through. Still, the words hung in the air for him. _I love you, Beka. _

"Okay," she said, "I'll tell you." Rosto smiled reassuringly at her, pushing the plate in her direction after taking one of the crackers and sticking it in his mouth. She looked at it, but didn't take one. Instead, she stared at the table. "I don't know why it is, but I feel like I'm lost. I love being a Dog, but there's something missing. I feel like I'm adrift, and I don't know why…" Beka looked up at him anxiously.

"I know what you mean, Beka," he told her. He knew exactly what she meant – he'd felt that feeling before, particularly after every time he'd flirted with her and she'd pushed him away. Somehow, he'd borne it silently, even after he and Aniki had gone their separate ways.

"I don't even know what to think anymore. There's another Dog at Jane Street who's professing his love for me. I can't even think of him as anything more than a fellow Dog, but here he is every night when I'm leaving after Watch, always asking if he can walk me home. I don't know what to do, Rosto. I do want a family and children of my own, but I'm not ready for that. I can't get him to stop…" She rested her head in her hands, looking down at the table once more.

"There's an easy way to stop him, Beka. I can either come down to the Kennel and tell him to back off or face the Rogue's wrath, or you could go with me, and you can then truthfully tell him that you're taken," Rosto told her with the utmost sincerity.

Beka let out a nervous giggle. Rosto grinned roguishly again, leaning back in his chair.

"Thank you for offering, Rosto, but no. We can't be together and you know it," she told him. Rosto brushed crumbs off the plain white shirt he'd thrown on before coming downstairs. It was tucked into his breeches instead of buttoned, just because it was easier. He looked up at her, his sable eyes full of unspoken affection.

"That doesn't stop me from wanting it, love."

"I'm not your love, Rosto. You're the Rogue and I'm a Dog. It can never be. As much as I think I'd like it, it's not going to happen," she told him. He just kept grinning at her.

"There is a chance, then. I'm content with friendship until you change your mind." Beka rolled her eyes.

"Then you'll be content with that for good. Never a rusher, Rosto. Never a rusher." Rosto raised an eyebrow.

"You owe me, Beka. Yates Noll, remember? Nothing short of murder. Would it kill you to give me a chance?" He asked. He saw her whole body stiffen as if he had physically struck her. Meeting her eyes, Rosto could see how torn she was. After a long silence, Beka sighed.

"Alright. You can have your chance, but if I change my mind, then we're agreed that there's no obligation to continue that relationship, and we'll go back to just being friends?" She asked. Rosto's grin brightened.

"Agreed. I'll make you a deal, Beka. If you'll handfast with me, then at the end of the year and a day, you can make your choice based on what you feel then. If you don't want to stay with me, then I'll let you go and will not make any more attempts for your affection. If you do, you have to marry me. Is that acceptable?" Beka paused for a second, thinking.

"If you keep your half, then so be it."

"On my honor," he said. Beka stifled a giggle. "That isn't funny. I do have some honor, you know," he told her with a scowl.

"I didna say I doubted it," she replied, trying to prevent her laughter from escaping. He gave her a disbelieving look.

"Fine. Have it your way. I swear it on my own life. If you choose to end it, I promise that I will let you, and I won't make any more advances. We'll just be friends. Cross my crooked heart," Rosto said, making the sign against evil over his heart. "Now you have to seal it with a kiss, Beka," he told her. When she nodded, he pulled her close, praying with all his heart that she would choose him at the end…

* * *

(Just over one year later)

Once again in the kitchen, this time it was Rosto's turn to seem downtrodden. He just didn't understand it. It didn't make sense. After the whole year of being handfast, and seeming to be extremely happy, Beka had come to him with her final decision. She was done with the romance. She did not want it anymore.

The part that didn't make sense to Rosto was that she had seemed like she was content to live that way, to continue down the path they'd started, and to become his wife permanently.

Despite all that had happened, from the Lower City discovering their relationship to her unexpected pregnancy two months into their handfasting, she had still ended it. No reason, no explanation, nothing. She had just told him on the last day that she wanted to be released from the bargain, as he had agreed to do if she so chose it.

Their son was safe in the hands of the Lord Provost, and would be well cared for. Though he didn't like it, Rosto was content with that. He knew in his heart that the child was better off there for the time being, instead of being in the Lower City as the son of a Dog and the Rogue. Still, he had wanted a hand in raising his son.

More importantly, he had wanted everything to stay the same, to be with Beka for the rest of his life. He would keep his promise to her, in spite of all of that. Rosto was a man of his word, no matter how hard he wanted to go against it.

"Are you alright?" A voice cut into his thoughts. He looked up to see Beka standing in the doorway to the kitchens, wearing a robe over her nightdress. Her blue eyes were wide with concern as she watched him.

"No." He slowly looked away, back at the table.

"Oh. Do you want to talk about it?" Beka asked. Rosto shook his head.

"There's nothing to talk about," he said softly. He sighed and continued to stare at the table.

"Rosto, you told me once that if I kept it bottled up inside, I would make myself sick. You need to let it out," she told him. He looked up at her, his eyes the inferno of emotion he felt inside.

"This is what's wrong: I'm in love with the Terrier and she's ended it. I made a promise to her that I would let her do that at the end of our handfasting. I can't bring myself to break that promise, despite the pain it's begun to cause me. I've rarely regretted anything in my life, but of the few things I have, this is by far the worst. If you won't be mine, Beka, can we at least be friends? _Good_ friends?" He asked. When she nodded, he continued. "Best friends?" Beka nodded again.

"I'm sorry that I'm causing you this pain, Rosto, but it had to be done. We never would have worked out in a long-term relationship. I will gladly be your best friend as long as the friendship remains platonic." Rosto watched her, then nodded his head solemnly.

"May I have one last kiss before it's completely over, Beka?" He asked. A grin appeared on her face, enough to tell him her answer.

(End flashbacks)

* * *

A silent droplet slipped down Rosto's face as memories filled his mind. It wasn't fair, not at all. First, he'd lost his chance at Beka being his forever, then he had lost her all this time later.

He brushed the tear away, refusing to cry any more. As much as he hated what had happened, both between him and Beka, and her death, he had to accept it. He didn't have a choice. In his heart, Rosto still loved her, even after twenty years of settling with being her best friend.

Somehow, he even thought that those nights that they'd had talks like those, those nights were the ones that kept him aware of life. The nights where they would sit up and talk about nothing were some of the best he could remember. Some of them had been exactly what he needed.

Carefully, he reached out and ran a finger over the cold stone, remembering their time together. It all hurt so much. He already missed her presence horribly.

"I still love you, Beka. I don't think I'll ever stop…"

* * *

**A/N: There's already a sequel in the works - it'll be coming soon!**

**Posted 4/10/08**


	7. Midnight Talks

**Disclaimer: Rosto belongs to Tamora Pierce. Dax is mine, though.  
A/N: I know it's been ages since I said this would be up in like a week. I got stuck, and distracted...and I'm not as happy with this as I would like to be, but it's pretty good, if only because I wanted to give Rosto (and Dax, in this case) some closure. Now, I'm going back to my much overdue chapter of Piper's Rain, and going to try to finish it tonight or tomorrow....so, here's the sequel to Those Nights...don't forget to review!!  


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**Many years had passed since the day that Beka Cooper and Rosto the Piper had been together. Only a week and a half had passed since her death on duty.

Now, Rosto was kneeling in front of the gravestone when footsteps sounded behind him. A soft corona of torchlight fell upon the area around him. He didn't move. He didn't care if it was one of his own people or one of the Dogs. He was lost in his memories, yearning for the past to be real again.

Finally, he glanced back to see a young man in the uniform of a full Dog in the Provost's Guard. Rosto turned back to the stone, reading the inscription once more. He had it memorized by now.

_Rebakah Cooper  
The Terrier, Bloodhound, and Elkhound  
230 H.E. – 279 H.E._

"_Sometimes the hardest thing to do is the right thing.  
As unfair as it seems, it must be done, no matter the cost."_

The words were so typical of Beka that, had he been feeling anything other than grief and sadness, it might have made him laugh.

"I don't think she would have wanted you to take her death so hard," the young man behind him said. Rosto ignored him. The fire grew closer and a hand fell on his shoulder. "You're Rosto the Piper, aren't you?" The man asked. Rosto nodded, taking note of the Patten District speech compared to his own Lower City Common.

"So what if I am. Don't matter anymore," he muttered.

"I think it does. If you're not Rosto the Piper, then you're not my father, the man I went looking for at the Dancing Dove. They told me that you've frequented her grave since the day she died. I just wanted to talk to you," the young man said.

With seemingly deliberate slowness, Rosto got to his feet, turning towards the young man. Suddenly, he was overcome with a new wave of grief. Beka's blue eyes stared out of the young man's face.

"I don't think we've ever been properly introduced. My name is Dax Cooper." Rosto watched him sadly, shaking his head a little.

"You're the son we gave up," he said softly. Dax nodded.

"That I am. Mother told me about you. She told me stories about the King of the Rogue who had nobly let her go after I was born. She visited me every week at the Provost's house until I turned fifteen, when I moved into the Puppy barracks. She always had new stories about what you and the others were up to," Dax said. He gave a half-smile when he thought about some of the funnier stories Beka had told him about his father and their housemates.

"That was how Beka was," Rosto told him. "She always went out of her way to make sure everyone was at home at the Dove," he continued softly.

"I think she was still in love with you, even at the end," Dax suddenly spoke up. His grip on the torch wavered just a bit, making the firelight dance around the gravestones. "The way she talked about you made it seem like she really did still love you…" Rosto looked back at Dax, the tears evident in his dark eyes.

"I loved her through it all, too. But I made a promise. Even if I've always been crooked at heart, I loved your mother, but I never break a promise I make, no matter what the cost. I paid for that promise with my heart," Rosto said, looking back at the stone that marked his former lover and best friend's grave. "I loved her, but it wasn't enough," he whispered to himself. Dax did not hear that last sentence, and Rosto was glad of it.

To know that Beka had still loved him before her death, that made him both joyful and crushed him at the same time. She had still loved him, even though _she_ had been the one who had ended their romance. She had ended it and broken his heart, forcing them into the platonic relationship of being best friends for most of the last twenty-five years.

"Some promises were meant to be broken, but if you loved her enough to keep your promise to her, you were every bit as good a man as she made you out to be in her stories. She painted you as a hero of the Lower City, like she was. You were two people who made a difference, and loved each other even though everyone around you said it was wrong. I'd like to get to know you, if you'll let me," Dax said.

Rosto let out a sigh, running his fingers over the flecked stone once more. "She painted me as a hero of the Lower City, did she?" He asked softly. That amused him. Anyone who lived in the Lower City said that the Rogue, the Rat-King, was the worst man in the City. They said he was greedy, that he was unfair, but Beka…of course she had said it differently. They had been so close that she had known who he was so intimately that she could name things about him that he himself hadn't realized. He could have done the same for her. She had always seen the good in him. She had always been good _to_ him.

That was another thing he constantly remembered about her. She had always been kind to him after their romance had ended. Especially kind, because she knew what she had done to him, how much she had hurt him, even if she had hurt herself just as much. And she had known that he still loved her.

In retrospect, Rosto was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, she had done the right thing after all. There had been no chance for them in the world they lived in. He had been the Rogue – he still was – and she was a Dog.

He had once heard a man who had fallen in love with a young woman who had gone on to marry another say something that he was suddenly sure was true about him. Their paths had always been intertwined; joined for a short time, then separated again, winding down the path of their lives, so close, and yet, so far. As much as Rosto hated to admit it, Beka had been right. They never would have been allowed to stay together, whether by her Dogs, or his Court. He both loved and hated facts like that, but it was true. As people, they had been meant to be, but as Rogue and Dog, they couldn't be. That was how their lives had become, and how hers had ended.

Rosto stepped away from the stone, coming to stand in front of his son, who was just a hair shorter than he was. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the torch waver in Dax's hand. He reached out his own hand and put it over his son's, steadying the torch.

"Your mother was a hero, I never was, even if she made it seem like I was. I did the best I could to use my position to help the people of the Lower City. I loved Beka, and I'm thankful for the time I had with her; I wish I could go back to that time. But I'm not the man you think I am, Dax. I wish I could be, but I'm not. I kept my promise because I always keep my word when I give it. Take care, son. Maybe I'll see you again."

With that, Rosto turned and walked away. His mind was in turmoil, but his heart was content. Beka had loved him, just as he had loved her. Even if everything they had been through had come to an end, he could remember her in peace now.

* * *

**A/N: Review, please! It only takes a minute!**

**Posted 12/16/08  
**


	8. His Last Chance to Live

**A/N: The long awaited companion piece/sequel to _I Have No Fate_ is here at last! I know, it's been absolutely _ages_ since I said I was going to write this...I got sidetracked..alot. And I've decided that I'm going to end this series here for the moment. As much as I love writing random Rosto oneshots, but I need to devote my time to the multi-chapter epics that I'm writing. I've thoroughly enjoyed writing these and I thank you all for your support! Now, don't forget to review!

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**As Beka Cooper raced through the streets of the Lower City, she knew the time she had left was short. She couldn't be late, she just couldn't. The City was silent but for her rapid bootfalls as she ran. This was Rosto's last chance.

There. She was through the City, almost to where the crowd was gathered in front of the scaffold. She stopped short when she saw that she would never get there in time. She couldn't stop them. The officers of the King's Own would never get the pardon there in time, even if she stalled.

On the scaffold, Rosto looked every inch like a king, his long white-blond hair blowing in the breeze. Even with his pale skin splotched with bruises and his clothing torn, he had the air of regality that could tell anyone who didn't know who he was that he was the Rogue. His dark eyes scanned the crowd; the relief on his face was visible to Beka. He seemed to be glad that he didn't see her.

In an instant, she was off again, pushing her way through the crowd. There was only one thing on her mind – she had to at least try to stall them. As a full Dog, she could get up on the scaffold and at least say a last goodbye.

She saw him take that first step, his face absolutely resolute. He wasn't afraid to die. That was something Beka knew well. He had never been afraid of death, only the thought of being separated from her, or being unable to save her when she needed him.

Just then, she saw him pause, still far away from the rope. He turned to reply to the guard, then took another step. Beka's heart pounded as she raced toward the scaffold. She saw Rosto step even closer to the rope. Everything they had been though – all the pain, heartache, passion, grief, joy, everything – flashed through her mind. Beka wasn't about to let them take that all away from her if she could stop it.

If there was one thing she knew, it was that she loved Rosto with all her heart, and she didn't know if she could bear losing him anymore. He had said that there was someone else out there who could make her happy, who wouldn't do this to her. She didn't want someone else. She wanted her Piper, because he was _hers_. She was the one he had chosen, even though they were so different. He was the one she had chosen, because he loved her for who she was, not what she was.

Thinking about it in those few seconds made Beka realize, really realize, that she wouldn't have traded a moment of it for another life. Not those months of pain and grief after her miscarriage, not the heartache of knowing that it was wrong for them to be together. Nothing would have made her trade her life for anything other than what it was.

Her eyes caught on Rosto again, as he took a final step toward his doom. She was at the scaffold now. She was so close, and yet so far. All she had to do was delay them. Maybe she could save him…

"Wait – stop!" She called. The Cage Dogs up on the scaffold looked down at her, clad in her simple Dog's uniform. She took the stairs two at a time, not caring if everyone knew that she was a Dog and she cared about Rosto in more than an amicable way. She didn't care if the long years of hiding what they were to each other were being thrown out the door.

None of them stepped in to impede her. She saw both sadness and pleasure in Rosto's eyes before she threw her arms around his neck with enough force to almost knock him over and buried her face in his chest. She hadn't even been aware that her eyes were filled with tears until she was shaking with sobs.

"Rosto," she said, her voice wavering some as she continued to cry. She didn't know what had come over her; what had possessed her to burst into tears like this.

"Shh, Beka, it's alright. It's alright," he whispered in her ear in comforting tone. He shifted back and forth, trying to comfort his wife as best he could. All the while, the crowd was silent as they watched the Terrier and the Rogue embrace.

"I don't think I can lose you, Rosto," she said, the tears subsiding somewhat. Rosto reached up to stroke her hair, still trying to comfort her.

"You can, Beka. I told you before, I know you can. You never needed me, sweet, I was the one who needed you. You can go on, you'll be okay," he said quietly. Beka pulled back to look at him. Her eyes flicked over the dark bruise on his cheek then met his warm dark brown eyes.

"You're wrong, Rosto. You always have been on that count. I was never as happy was I have been with you…" she whispered. She saw a small smile cross his face and he pulled her close again.

"I love you, Beka. Now go. Before they kill me, just go," he said softly, kissing her softly before letting her go and moving back to where he had been and watching her expectantly. She stepped closer for a moment, lowering her voice so that only he could hear her.

"So that you know, whether or not you survive this day, you'll be a father," she said softly, her voice quavering again. Rosto's eyes lit up and a soft smile appeared on his face.

"Thank you, Beka," he replied softly. "Farewell, love…"

One of the Cage Dogs retied Rosto's hands behind his back and pushed him forward. Movement caught Beka's eye as she nodded, then turned to walk back down the stairway on the scaffold. A group of ten men in the colors of the King's Own had entered the square.

People cleared a path for the armed men as they made their way to the scaffold. When the Cage Dogs made a move to continue with the execution, the dark-haired leader of the squad raised his voice.

"Halt, by order of the King!" He called. As he passed, Beka saw the symbol of a sergeant's rank on the band on his arm. He quickly made his way to the top of the scaffold, handing a scroll to one of the Dogs on the platform.

Beka watched with baited breath until the Dog thrust the scroll back at the sergeant and growled at the others to release the prisoner. Elation surged through her as they cut the ropes binding Rosto and let him go. He calmly walked over to the stairs, his eyes on her. He skipped the last few steps, landing on his feet with a soft thud in front of her.

Rosto gave her a roguish smile and took her hand, leading her off to some quiet place where no one would stare at them. He never said anything, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. He knew what she had done to save him, appealing to Lord Gershom to speak to King Roger, and everything else. He knew that she had given him this, another chance to live. Another chance to love her.

* * *

**Posted 1/4/09**


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